Sherlock: Alternate Dimensions
by QueenNaberrie
Summary: What if Sherlock Holmes and John Watson had never met? What would have happened to them? Well, Sherlock is about to find out...as he steps into another dimension...and perhaps just maybe he's entered the Twilight Zone. ;) One-Shot story. Sherlock H., DI Lestrade, Mycroft H., Molly Hooper, and John W.


_Author's Note: I know this is a bit sci-fi; but I love both sci-fi and mystery so why not combine the two? I thought this might be an interesting scenario that I haven't come across anyone else doing. Perhaps the Dr. Who crossovers come close; but I haven't really gotten into Dr. Who so inspiration for this story comes from other sci-fi movies and television I've watched over the years. In fact, you might almost want to say they've entered the Twilight Zone. I hope you enjoy! :)_

 _Disclaimer:_ _I do not own "Sherlock" nor seek any financial gain from this story. This is purely written for my enjoyment and hopefully the enjoyment of my readers. All the credit for the creation of the original characters for the "Sherlock Holmes" stories goes to the great Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; and all the credit for the modernized, television version, "Sherlock", goes to the fabulous Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and Steve Thompson. "Sherlock" also belongs to BBC in the UK and aired on PBS in the US._

 _Also, I'm from the US and this has not been Brit-Picked, so please forgive my errors._

 **Sherlock: Alternate Dimensions**

As Greg Lestrade made his way down the corridor that led to the morgue at St. Bart's, it was with a heavy heart. He was there to tell Molly Hooper that Sherlock had relapsed again and had overdosed on heroin just the night before. The doctors told him Sherlock was lucky to be alive at all between that and his half-starved body, as it was obvious he wasn't eating properly again. _"Sherlock, you really need to take better care of yourself."_ He thought to himself as he stopped just outside the doors to the morgue to collect his thoughts before entering.

Molly and Greg had teamed up in a joint effort to help keep Sherlock off the drugs quite a few years ago, but it's been nothing but an uphill battle. Their efforts seemed to work for a while with Greg giving Sherlock cold cases to solve and Molly giving him body parts to run experiments on. But it never seemed to be enough to keep the brilliant younger man entertained enough to keep him off the drugs.

Greg blamed himself for this. He hadn't seen Sherlock at New Scotland Yard in over two weeks. _"I should have checked up on him."_ He berated himself as he looked up at the double doors again. "Well, I better get this over with." He now said out loud as he pushed the morgue's swinging doors open and stepped inside.

Although, what he saw when he entered the morgue, or perhaps it would be better to say who he saw, it stopped him immediately in his tracks. "Impossible." He muttered under his breath as both Molly's lively, brown eyes; and the mesmerizing blue gaze of a very healthy looking Sherlock Holmes fell upon him.

"Ahh…good, Lestrade. I'm glad you're here. I was just going to text you. You need to arrest Gerard's sister. She…" Sherlock began but was cut off.

"Whaaat?" Greg responded with complete disbelief as he continued to stare at Sherlock with shock and run his right hand through his salt and pepper hair.

"Are you all right, Greg?" Molly asked him with concern when she noticed his totally bewildered expression.

"What? Why are you staring at me like that?" Sherlock asked with confusion. He then turned to Molly. "Why is he staring at me like that?"

Molly just shrugged her shoulders, not sure how to respond. She was just as confused as Sherlock.

"I've finally lost my mind," was Greg's only response. "Is he real?" He then asked Molly.

Molly opened her mouth about to answer, but Sherlock interrupted before she could.

"Oh for God's sake, Lestrade! I thought you were over the whole 'resurrection' thing. I'm here…I'm alive…" Sherlock exclaimed as Lestrade just continued to look more and more confused by the moment.

"Whaaat? What are you talking about?" Greg replied as Sherlock was now re-joining the others in their confusion.

"Greg, what's going on?" Molly finally was able to ask as Sherlock was now observing Greg in a manner that could only be one of deduction.

"Molly, I…uh…was going to come down here to tell you that Sherlock overdosed again but…I just came from there. Sherlock, how can you be here in the morgue…looking well…? You were catatonic and practically skeletal just a few minutes ago in a hospital room upstairs." Greg attempted to explain as both Sherlock and Molly's mouths gaped open, not knowing what to say in response to that.

"Lestrade, what are you on about? I haven't done drugs in over five years." Sherlock defended himself as he proceeded to remove his suit jacket, laying it over the back of a chair, and then proceeded to unbutton and roll up both sleeves of his purple shirt. "See, Lestrade, I have no new needle marks. Only scars from before. The only vice I have now is an occasional cigarette and my nicotine patches…and before you say anything, I am truly trying to quit." Sherlock told him as he pointed to the circular patch on his right arm.

"I wasn't judging." Greg replied but then eyed the patch suspiciously. "What's under the patch?"

Sherlock let out a heavy sigh as he rolled his eyes and proceeded to rip off the nicotine patch. "See! I am clean." He declared as Greg took a hold of his arm and examined it.

"I don't understand." Greg started. "I was just up in your hospital room a few minutes ago. It was definitely you and you were…well…look at you…I've _never_ seen you this healthy looking before. At least since I've known you. And the man lying in that bed upstairs had definitely overdosed, and he was most definitely you...er…Sherlock Holmes."

"Lestrade, it is not scientifically possible for me to be in two places at once." Sherlock insisted as he rolled his sleeves back down and was re-buttoning them.

"Well, why don't you come back upstairs and see for yourself?" Greg retorted, his voice slightly elevated with ire and frustration. "Hey, what am I saying? I don't even know if _you are_ Sherlock Holmes or not. You could be an impostor for all I know."

"I can assure you, Lestrade, that I am most definitely, Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock replied as he put his suit jacket back on.

"Well, there is only one way to settle this." Greg told him. "Let's go back upstairs and see who the man lying in the bed is."

"Ok. Let's." Sherlock agreed as Greg nodded and turned to leave the morgue with Sherlock and Molly not far behind him.

ooOoo

They were just getting off the lift on the 4th floor, when they spotted the very familiar figure of Mycroft Holmes entering a private hospital room just down the hall. "What is he doing here?" Sherlock asked with annoyance.

The group walked at a fast pace down the hall but then paused at the doorway in shock at the sight that beheld them. Mycroft Holmes was sitting in the guest chair next to a hospital bed that contained a man who most definitely resembled Sherlock Holmes. They were all stunned into silence as they watched Mycroft pick up the Sherlock look-a-like's hand and appeared to be fighting back tears. "Oh, Sherlock, what have you done to yourself?" He berated to the still, sleeping form on the bed. "Mummy is terribly worried, as is Father. They are already on a flight back from America to come see you. I-I don't know what I am doing wrong, Sherlock. I have tried to protect you and keep you safe; but I have failed you miserably."

The healthy Sherlock standing in awe in the doorway debated whether or not to make his presence known. But his decision was made for him when Lestrade covered his mouth with his fist and cleared his throat, bringing Mycroft's attention to those standing in the doorway.

Mycroft's eyes became as big as saucers as he released the weak, bedridden Sherlock's hand and immediately got to his feet. "How is this possible?" He exclaimed as he gaped at the healthy version of his little brother standing in the doorway and then his eyes fell back on the weak, underweight man lying unconscious in the bed next to him.

"We're unsure. But clearly that man is an imposter." Sherlock insisted as he pointed at the patient in the bed.

"Could it be possible that the Sherlock in the bed is from some kind of alternate dimension?" Molly asked as Greg and Mycroft seemed to contemplate that possibility.

"What?!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Don't be an idiot."

"No, I think she might be on to something." Greg defended her. "I mean…what other explanation can there be?"

"I don't see that as a plausible explanation for all this." Mycroft insisted. "There has to be a logical reason for it."

"Yes, alternate dimensions have not been scientifically proven to exist." Sherlock added as Mycroft eyed him with curiosity, especially since the brothers seemed to be agreeing with one another for once.

"Yeah…but what other explanation can there be?" Greg asked.

"If you eliminate the impossible whatever remains, however improbable, it must be the truth." Sherlock replied.

"Exactly!" Greg retorted as everyone just stared at him and then back at Sherlock.

"I suggest we eliminate the impossible by performing blood and DNA tests." Mycroft suggested as he eyed the man who claimed to be his little brother. "Either you are a man who looks very much like my brother and an excellent actor. Or the detective inspector and Dr. Hooper are right and alternate dimensions do exist." Mycroft paused. "Do you agree to do a blood test?"

"I insist." Sherlock replied.

"Good." Mycroft answered before turning to Molly. "Doctor, would you be so kind as to obtain blood from both of these men?" He pointed to both men who appeared to be Sherlock Holmes.

Molly nodded. "Of course, just give me a minute to find what I need." She replied and then left the room, leaving the rest of them to stare at one another.

"Believe me when I tell you that I would give anything to know that somewhere out there, in this vast universe of ours, in some different dimension, my brother has found peace with himself and found a way to stay off the drugs." Mycroft admitted to Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed as he walked over to the man lying in the bed. "This was once me." He admitted. "I won't deny it. That is how Lestrade and I met. He found me almost dead in an abandoned building. I had overdosed then." He paused as he glanced over at Lestrade and then to his brother. "But you both did manage to help keep me clean." He paused and looked back to Lestrade. "I had shown an interest and a talent for solving crimes that had put you and Scotland Yard completely out of your depth. So you gave me an ultimatum that if I wanted to assist you on cases, I had to stay clean." He then turned to his brother. "And you…as much as it has annoyed me over the years…have used your 'minor position in the British Government', as you call it, to _spy on me_." He paused again. "You even went as far as to bug my flat and put in hidden cameras." He smirked. "Well, you tried, anyway. I'd always find them and remove them."

Mycroft couldn't help but chuckle at that. "You were always able to know when you were being watched." He looked at this man who resembled his brother fondly, even for him. "You know me so well."

"I do." Sherlock replied smugly.

"Well, I found everything I need." Molly declared as she re-entered the room. "I just need you to sit down in that chair, Sherlock, and roll up one of your sleeves."

"Molly." Sherlock began as a thought occurred to him while he was doing as she had requested by taking his suit jacket off again and then unbuttoning and rolling up his right sleeve. "You were with me in the lab when Lestrade arrived." He stopped…taking a deep breath and asking himself why he was even entertaining such a preposterous notion. "If, and I strongly say 'if', theoretically I am from another dimension, then that means you came here with me."

Molly looked shocked by that as she stopped what she was doing. "I didn't even think about that possibility."

"Yeah…but wouldn't there be another Molly around if that was true?" Greg asked.

"You're brilliant!" Sherlock answered him with excitement.

"What? Really?" Greg replied with surprise.

"Yes, really, Lestrade. You always were less of an idiot than everyone else." Sherlock replied with a smirk.

Greg shook his head. "Well, I guess coming from you, I should take that as a compliment."

"You should." Sherlock told him as he then continued. "Perhaps you should use your position as a Scotland Yard inspector to find out where the second Molly is."

"Right." Greg agreed. "I'll see if she has the day off or something."

"That is, of course, assuming that the theory that both Sherlock and Dr. Hooper came from another dimension." Mycroft interjected.

"Of course." Sherlock replied as Molly continued with taking blood from him.

"Right. Well, I'll get onto that, then." Greg said as he turned and left the room.

Sherlock winced a bit as he looked down at what she was doing. "All done." Molly replied with a shy smile and proceeded to put an alcohol soaked cotton ball on the puncture wound. "Hold this to your arm until it stops bleeding." She instructed him and he complied. "Now I'll go get blood from…um…the other Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded at her as she walked away and proceeded to find a pliable vein amongst his overtaxed ones. "How long should it take to do the tests?" He asked to no one in particular.

"The blood test itself, as you know, won't take very long; and I can do them here in my lab." Molly replied and Sherlock nodded in agreement. "But…" She looked at Mycroft for help. "I am not set up for DNA testing. Usually we send those tests out, and they take quite a while sometimes."

Mycroft's ears perked up. "I will use my connections to make that go much faster. I won't know until I speak with my people, but hopefully it should take no longer than a day or two…if not less time."

"Good." Sherlock replied as they continued to watch Molly struggle to get blood from the other man in the bed.

"Well, I think I got enough blood. It was hard finding a good vein." Molly said sadly as she stared down at the unconscious man.

"It will be enough, I'm sure." Mycroft told her. "Can you prepare a couple of vials for me to have tested?"

Molly nodded. "Yes, just give me a minute. I'll be right back."

Mycroft also nodded in response as Molly left the room again. "You know, Sherlock…if that is truly your name…I could use some help with a case of my own."

"Don't even think about it, Mycroft. I've had my fill of working for MI6. I did it for two years while everyone thought I was dead." Sherlock retorted at then paused. "Well…almost everyone."

"What are you talking about?" Mycroft asked with confusion.

"Moriarty's final problem? Don't you remember?" Sherlock asked with confusion, still not convinced of the whole alternate dimension theory. "Me…jumping off the roof of this hospital to save the lives of my friend, John Watson; Lestrade; and Mrs. Hudson?"

"Morarity…How do you know that name?" Mycroft replied with suspicion.

"James Moriarty? My true arch enemy? He was trying to burn the heart out of me and ruin me, but you and I stopped him." Sherlock paused. "Well, he stopped himself when he shot and killed himself; but that is beside the point."

"Sherlock, I have no idea what you are talking about." Mycroft insisted. "There is a James Moriarty who MI5 and MI6 have been keeping an eye on for quite some time; but he is alive. I have no reports of him killing himself."

Sherlock looked at his brother with an expression of complete perplexity. "You don't remember helping me to fake my death?"

"No, I have no idea what you are talking about." Mycroft pointed to the man thought to be his real brother in the hospital bed. "That man is my brother and he has been in no condition to play Moriarty's 'final problem', as you call it. He did not jump off of a roof and fake his death. He has been in and out of drug rehab centers and been a constant worry to myself and our parents."

Sherlock was dumbstruck. He stared at his brother in complete awe and confusion just as Molly re-entered the room and proceeded to hand Mycroft two vials of blood. "Here you go. I clearly marked them as 'Sherlock Holmes 1' and 'Sherlock Holmes 2.'"

"Thank you, Dr. Hooper." Mycroft replied as he took the vials from her while still not taking his eyes off of who he thought to be his brother's imposter.

Molly looked from one man to the other, who were still eyeing each other suspiciously.

"Molly." Sherlock began as he then turned to give his full attention to her. "Do you remember helping me to fake my death?"

Molly nodded. "Uh…y-yes."

"Good, then I'm not going completely mad. It really did happen." Sherlock replied.

Molly nodded in confusion. "Yes, it did. I couldn't possibly forget something like that."

"And my brother, Mycroft, helped me too, didn't he?" Sherlock asked her.

"Well, yes, I spoke with Mycroft many times, even afterwards." Molly paused. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Mycroft, here, doesn't seem to remember it. So why would he do that?" Sherlock asked as he got to his feet, while still holding the cotton ball to his arm, and started pacing around where Mycroft stood.

"Because I don't remember it, Sherlock. I think I would remember something like that if it really happened." Mycroft retorted.

"Well, I found out that Molly wasn't even scheduled to work today." Greg announced upon re-entering the room. "In fact, the staff here was surprised to see you here, Molls."

Molly looked surprised. "What?"

Mycroft and Sherlock exchanged a look of astonishment. "So, uh…that means…" Sherlock began, not knowing how to reply for once.

"Perhaps the theory that you and I came from another dimension is correct." Molly stated with an almost smug smile.

"Perhaps." Mycroft interject as he looked down at the vials of blood in his hand and then back up at the others. "The DNA testing on this blood will tell us something. If they are an exact match, then perhaps the theory is true. That is unless my brother has an identical twin I don't know about…only Mummy could confirm that theory."

"What? And we were separated at birth? Don't be an idiot, Mycroft." Sherlock retorted.

"Well, why don't we first find out the DNA results and then we can have that particular discussion." Mycroft told him.

"Or we could solve it right here by taking our fingerprints." Sherlock told him as the thought occurred to him. "Even identical twins have slightly different fingerprints."

Lestrade's eyes brightened up at that. "Yeah…I'll go find an ink pad and some paper. I'll be right back." The group nodded at him as he quickly left the room.

"Um…I'll go run those blood tests." Molly told them.

"Yes, Miss Hooper." Mycroft replied as Molly glanced at Sherlock, who also nodded in agreement.

"Well, then, I'll be back soon." Molly told them as she left the room, passing Greg as he re-entered it.

"Ok. Well, let's get this over with; and then I'll have one of our forensics experts look at the prints to see if they match." Lestrade told them.

A thought then occurred to Sherlock. "It wouldn't happen to be Phillip Anderson, would it?"

"Yeah, I was thinking of having Anderson do it…if he's available, that is?" Lestrade replied. "What of it?"

"Nothing." Sherlock answered while he thought about the implications of that.

"What is it, Sherlock? You're obviously on to something. Now what is it?" Mycroft found himself asking, almost naturally.

Sherlock looked up at his brother. "I can't believe I'm actually entertaining this. Phillip Anderson…lost his job at the Yard after I faked my death. He insisted that I was still alive and went mad trying to prove it. He became…my biggest fan."

"What?" Lestrade interjected.

Sherlock looked right at him. "I used to think that Anderson was a complete idiot; but considering he was the only one of my acquaintance to actually figure it out, proves to me that he isn't as much of an idiot as I thought."

"So what are you saying?" Greg asked. "I don't remember anything about you faking your death or Anderson being fired. He still works for the Yard and last I checked he's no fan of yours. He despises you."

"Ahh…then…and I can't actually believe I am thinking this…but perhaps your theory is correct after all." Sherlock replied.

"You think so?" Greg answered.

"Yes….or this is some elaborate April Fools Day joke; but it's not April." Sherlock told them.

"No, it's not." Mycroft replied cautiously. He then turned to Greg. "Detective Inspector, please proceed with fingerprinting both of these men who appear to be my younger brother."

"Sure." Greg complied with a nod and then walked over to the conscious and healthy Sherlock. "Ok. You know what to do, Sherlock. I need a clean print from all of your fingers just to make sure we make a good match."

Sherlock sighed. "Yes, I know what to do." He replied and proceeded to put each of his fingers on the black ink pad and then rolled each finger on the piece of paper carefully so it would leave the clean prints. "There…satisfied?"

Greg examined them. "Yeah…perfect. Now I need to get the other Sherlock's prints."

"Obviously." Sherlock replied as he rolled his eyes.

Greg shook his head in annoyance and then proceeded to pull the tray table over and took the prints from the unconscious man. He then glanced up at the other two men. "I should know something in an hour or two. It depends on how busy they are down at the Yard."

"Of course." Mycroft replied. "Please do take all the time that you need."

"Yes, but please do hurry." Sherlock added with a smirk.

Greg chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "I'll do the best I can. I'll be back as soon as I have something." He told them as he left the room.

"Well, now what do we do?" Sherlock asked his brother.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows at him. "Obviously…we wait."

"How tedious." Sherlock retorted petulantly as both men couldn't help but chuckle, despite the oddity of the situation.

"So, John Watson. Where is he?" Sherlock ask his brother as he rolled down the sleeve on his shirt and re-buttoned it, satisfied now that the bleeding had stopped.

"Who?" Mycroft asked with confusion as Sherlock put his suit jacket back on.

"John Watson, my friend? He used to be my flatmate at Baker Street, but he's married now to Mary Morstan. I was John's best man at their wedding." Sherlock tried to explain as he observed his brother's expression becoming more and more one of confusion.

"Sherlock, I know nothing of a John Watson; and since when did you have any friends?" Mycroft asked him. "I don't know who this John Watson is."

"Nothing? You've certainly kidnapped him enough. Even attempted to pay him money to spy on me for you…but he was loyal from the start, and refused to do it." Sherlock retorted.

Mycroft let out another disgusted sigh. "Well, obviously this John Watson is another anomaly in this very bizarre case."

"Must be." Sherlock replied, saddened that if it were true and this is another dimension, John and this Sherlock never met. "That may explain a lot." He told Mycroft as he waved his hand towards the unconscious man in the bed.

"And why is that?" Mycroft inquired with curiosity.

"John helped to keep me clean." Sherlock explained. "He stayed with me on what you all dubbed my 'danger nights'; and for the first time in my life, I had a true friend. Someone outside the family who, despite my…idiosyncrasies…" He looked at Mycroft. "…actually cared for me and saw my heart when I tried so hard to hide it from everyone else with the mask of 'high-functioning sociopath.'"

"You are not a 'high-functioning sociopath', as you so graciously put it; and you know it." Mycroft told him. "That was not the diagnosis we were given."

"I know what the real diagnosis was, Mycroft. You don't need to remind me. I live with it every day." Sherlock snapped back at him. "But 'high-functioning sociopath' sounds so much more menacing and explains away my inability to show the proper emotions at any given time."

"Yes, well, apparently this, John Watson, you mentioned saw passed this." Mycroft stated more than asked.

"Yes, he did…surprisingly enough." Sherlock replied whole heartedly. "And he helped me learn to cope better with my disability. He helped me to recognize when something I said or did was 'a bit not good'. He worked with me and I listened."

"You…listening?" Mycroft retorted. "Now I know you aren't Sherlock." He stated with a sly smirk.

"Funny, Mycroft." Sherlock came back with a mocking glare, feigning being offended by the remark.

"So you wish to know where this John Watson is here." Mycroft stated again. "I can make some inquiries."

"Yes, I would like that." Sherlock then looked at the man who was just a shadow of himself still lying in the hospital bed. "You need to introduce them."

"I will. If I can find him." Mycroft acquiested. "If he helped you, perhaps he can help my brother as well."

Sherlock looked at Mycroft with surprise. "So now you're entertaining the possibility that Molly and I are from another dimension."

"It appears so, Sherlock." Mycroft replied. "The scientific tests we are having run will only confirm it. I am sure of it at this point."

"How do you know?" Sherlock asked with curiosity.

"Just a feeling." Mycroft replied.

"You don't do… _feelings._ " Sherlock retorted.

"Yes, as you always used to tell me, even about yourself. Yet here you are admitting to me that you have them." Mycroft threw back at him.

"Yes, well…don't let it get around." Sherlock pleaded with a smirk.

"It won't." Mycroft replied, smirking in return. "If you give me any information you know about this John Watson, I'll get my people right on it."

Sherlock simply nodded and proceeded to write on the extra paper left over from the fingerprinting, handing it over to his brother.

Mycroft's eyebrows raised in what could only be a look of being impressed. "I will get right on this." Mycroft informed him as he pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and left the room to go somewhere it was considered safe to use his phone.

This left Sherlock alone with the man who Sherlock could have been if it weren't for John Watson. John Watson claimed that Sherlock saved his life; but it appears that John did the same for Sherlock.

ooOoo

Sometime later, Mycroft returned to the hospital room, with a grim look on his face, to find Sherlock sitting the guest chair with his eyes closed and hands steepled under his chin. Mycroft recognized this to mean that Sherlock was deeply immersed into his mind palace; but proceeded to get his attention anyway. "Sherlock." Mycroft said as he put his hand on his brother's shoulder and shook him.

Sherlock's eyes immediately opened and gazed up at him. "What did you find out? Where is John?"

Mycroft sighed as he opened the file folder in his hands. "Captain John Hamish Watson of the 5th Northampton Fusiliers was honorably discharged from the army and invalided home almost five years ago after being shot in the shoulder while serving in Afghanistan as he was trying to save the life of another. He developed a psychosomatic limp and lived alone in a small one room flat for many months before…" He paused as Sherlock watched him, dreading what he might say next. "…before he tried to shoot and kill himself."

"Oh, John." Sherlock said with despair. "Did he succeed? Is he dead?"

"No, he did not succeed." Mycroft told him as Sherlock let out a sigh of relief. "Although, his attempt at suicide landed him in a mental institution where he has been put on suicide watch." He paused as he handed Sherlock a form from the file folder. "That document states which mental institution he is in. It appears you helped him as much as he helped you…in your dimension. He is in just a bad of state without you in his life."

Sherlock had an epiphany. "Then you need to introduce them…as soon as my other self wakes up."

"That was my thought as well." Mycroft answered him as both Molly and Greg walked back into the room.

"Well, we have the results." Greg stated for both of them, apparently already having compared notes before arriving back there.

"And?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"The prints are identical." Greg told them.

"The blood types are also the same." Molly added.

Mycroft took another paper from the file and handed it to Sherlock. "And the DNA is a complete match."

"Which means?" Sherlock asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

"That it appears that Dr. Hooper and the detective inspector's theory of you, and Dr. Hooper, being from an alternate dimension is most likely correct." Mycroft admitted.

"So how do we get back?" Molly asked no one in particular. "I didn't notice anything different…there were no bright flashes of light or anything."

"I concur. Nothing out of the ordinary happened in the lab until Lestrade walked in." Sherlock added.

"I don't know. That is a mystery yet to be solved." Mycroft replied. "Maybe it's not one we are meant to solve."

"Maybe you just need to both return to Molly's lab?" Greg suggested.

"Perhaps." Sherlock answered as he noticed that his other self was now awake and staring at him in awe. Sherlock looked at Mycroft who had followed Sherlock's line of sight. "But we need to do one more thing first."

Mycroft nodded, understanding his meaning. "Yes, we do."

ooOoo

A short time later, Sherlock, Molly, and Greg observed Mycroft introducing _his_ brother of this dimension to a one John Watson, who Mycroft had arranged to be released into his care. The change in both the men's demeanors was instantaneous as it was clear that the other Sherlock was deducing John and, in turn, John thought he was brilliant in his deductions as opposed to just telling him to piss off. It was obvious that both men took an instant liking to one another.

Sherlock smiled warmly at the thought, dismissing his usual disbelief in fate. _"We were meant to meet and be best friends. We make each other better."_ He thought to himself as Mycroft walked back to join them.

"Well, it appears that you are correct, brother mine. They are getting along famously." Mycroft admitted.

"Yes, it does appear that way, doesn't it?" Sherlock replied with a satisfied smirk.

"So…" Mycroft started as he turned to look at the man he hoped his brother would someday become. "…I guess this means good-bye then."

"Yes, it appears so. We accomplished whatever fate or time wanted us to accomplish here." Sherlock started and then became embarrassed. "Well, if you want to believe in that sort of thing."

"Of course." Mycroft replied with a smirk as he held out his hand to Sherlock and they shook hands.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but…watch over them, Mycroft. I, more than anyone, know you're very good at it….you know the bugs in my flat, the CCTV cameras, all of it." Sherlock teased.

"Yes, well, I'm sure that can all be arranged." Mycroft informed him a smirk.

"Well, good-bye." Sherlock told Mycroft as he looked at Molly.

"Yes, good-bye." Molly also said to Mycroft, her hands in her lab coat pockets. She then turned to look at Sherlock. "Shall we go back to the lab and see if our theory is true…that we will return to our dimension once we step through the door?"

Sherlock simply nodded as he released hands with his brother, glancing one more time at the two men who were destined to be best friends in the other room. "Yes, it's time to go. This case has been solved."

 _Epilogue_

As it turned out, their theory was right. Upon returning to Molly's lab in the basement of St. Bart's Hospital, again there were no bright flashing lights or any sign that anything was different. But shortly after they arrived in the lab, John Watson, the one they all know and love, walked into the lab looking for Sherlock, wondering why the hell he hadn't been answering his texts or phone calls. Apparently he was missing Mary's birthday party and John was there to berate him for it and drag him immediately there if necessary. "I know you don't do parties because it involves _people_ , Sherlock; but it's important to Mary that you are there. And we are stopping off at your flat to get your violin. She wants you to play."

Sherlock let out a petulant sigh and feigned annoyance before simply smiling at the familiarity of it all. "Oh, all right, I'm coming, John. I'll do it for Mary." He replied to John tirade.

"Good. Finish up whatever it was you were doing and meet me out front. I have a cab waiting." John instructed as he turned to leave. He then paused at the door. "You're welcome to ride with us, Molly? You're coming too, aren't you?"

"Uh…yes…but I need to go home first…and get changed." Molly told him as John gave Sherlock a look that said he brooked no opposition.

"Five minutes, Sherlock, or I'm coming back down here to find you." John told him.

"I'll be there in four minutes." Sherlock retorted as John simply laughed and then left the lab. Sherlock smiled warmly. _"It's good to be back in my own dimension."_


End file.
